The Diary of a Misunderstood Policeman
by s n o g g i n g withdrawal
Summary: Javert is not the hard-hearted soul he is always seen as. In fact, he is a kindly old man who has self-esteem issues and a foot fetish...CHAPTER 3: MUST NOT KILL GAMIN...
1. Meet Javert: The Kindly Old Man

The Diary of a Misunderstood Policeman

          **November 14**

All they see is a man of the law. All they see is a harsh, old dude with big sideburns.

          They don't see the sensitive soul inside, struggling to get out.

          It's really a kind soul. It's a soul with a heart, a soul with a loving mind, a soul with a foot fetish.

          …Oh, God. Did I really just admit that?

          But now you know.

          I am a human being too. 

          **November 16**

**            10:00 a.m**

Idiot blokes trying to get out of jail again. What is UP with them? They wanted in, obviously.

          So now they get to stay there. It's as simple as that.

          Wait, that's not very simple, is it?

          By the way, what's with Jean Valjean? I always thought he was kind of a freak. You know, beginning with the Name-Val-Name thing. It would be like me calling myself Javert Valjavert. 

          Actually, that DOES sound pretty awesome. 

          In a way. 

          **10:30 a.m.**

Damn solicitors. They come to the door of the freaking police station and try to sell us stuff.

          The last one just came up and said "Hello, sir, I'm Randy. What's your name?"

          "My name is Javert ValJavert…"

          …He left pretty quickly. 

          **10:50 a.m.**

I think I have some theatrical talent.

          I could be in shows! 

          I could play a misunderstood policeman.

          Wait, I AM a misunderstood policeman. 

          How amazing is THAT???

**            11:13 a.m.**

Must get ready for rounds of policing today. La, la.

          In shower. La, la, la. Singing.

          Washed sideburns. Also dried them. Mm, they look very nice now. 

          Wearing awesomely cool police hat. This job really has benefits.

          **11:30 a.m.**

Left for rounds.

          **11:33 a.m.**

Forgot nightstick. What kind of idiot am I? 

          **11:34 a.m.**

Went back to get nightstick. Sneer.

          **11:40 a.m.**

Hit gamin with nightstick and ran away giggling. Ah, violence. Warms the very soul. 

          **11:50 a.m.**

Hope the gamin did not see me giggling. Very bad for image as an evil policeman.

          Or a misunderstood kindly soul. Either one. 

          **9:00 p.m.**

Stupid thieving blokes kept me working all afternoon. Dead tired.

          **9:10 p.m.**

Washed sideburns again so I can sleep easily.

          Plus, I dried them. Now they are incredibly sexy.

          I'm too sexy for my sideburns…oh, no, it is the other way around. 

          Wonderful. 

          **9:30 p.m.**

I feel pretty, oh so pretty…


	2. Sideburns, A Certain Gamin, and Prozzies

The Diary of a Misunderstood Policeman

(Part 2)

**November 17**

**8:00 a.m.**

The early bird catches the convict! Heh heh heh.

Just woke up. Am now listening to the noise of angry voices in the street. 

Probably that idiot, Thenardier. I guess I'll get to arrest him today.

Again.

Ah, happiness. 

Perhaps I should get up and shave. Don't need to be on the job until 10:00, though.

Got up and looked in mirror.

AHH!!! My sideburn!!! One of them is longer than the other!!! Oh, God, what can I DO?!?!?

There is foul play afoot. As soon as I shave the extra millimeter off of my right sideburn so it can return to its natural state of sexiness, I must find the person who caused this awful thing to occur!!

**9:00 a.m.**

**police station**

Stupid gamin kid showed up again. It's like he's _begging_ for me to arrest him.

I did, for a moment, contemplate shoving him into a nearby cell. And just keeping him there. For a while. 

No, wouldn't work. People would ask why he was in there.

And I would have no answer.

And my self-image would be cruelly DESTROYED.

**9:10 a.m.**

Put on crazy awesome police-style hat. Admired self in the mirror for ten minutes, then realized said gamin was still in the station. Laughing. And singing a really crap song in French. I think it was about little people, but my memory started to blur at that point.

I AM THE LAW AND THE LAW IS NOT MOCKED!!!!!!!!!

**9:25 a.m.**

Have locked gamin child in the farthest cell. Hopefully no one will find him. 

SUCCESS AT LAST!!!!!!!!!!

**9:45 a.m.**

Pray God no child protection laws have been passed in the last half hour. Because that would really suck. 

**10:00 a.m.**

On rounds once again. Gamin still in jail. 

Finally, peace!!! Thank the Lord. 

**10:10 a.m.**

Lots of prostitutes standing around in the Rue de Whatsit. Oh, you know what I mean.

Oh, GOD. They all have feet.

And although I may try extremely hard to suppress my foot fetish, IT IS NOT WORKING.  

A little rendezvous with one of them wouldn't hurt anything, now would it?

No, Javert. You are the LAW. You must not … you must NOT … 

Great. I'm fighting with myself over whether to go off with some PROSTITUTE. What is WRONG with me??? I should be JAILING these whores, not ogling them!

I will not stare at the feet of prostitutes. I will not stare at the feet of prostitutes. I will not stare at the feet of prostitutes. I will not stare at the feet of prostitutes.

The fact that they're all looking at my sideburns with what I hope is a mixture of joy and reverence is NOT helping.

But it DOES help my self-esteem. As in, a LOT.

I think I have done enough work for today.

**11:00 a.m.**

Skipping merrily back to the police station.

My sideburns are sexy, and so am I! It is proven! Prostitutes are entranced by them!

…Wait, maybe this is not so good.

Will mull this over later. Much later. 

**12:00 p.m.**

Stupid gamin still locked up. Also STILL singing. "And little people know, and little people fight" – well, HE won't be fighting any more. Not if I have my way. Heh heh heh. 

I think I am slipping. You know, like, reaching but I fall, all that stuff. Threatening little ten-year-olds. Why am I such a violent person?? 

Going off to a quiet place to enjoy my proven prettiness in peace. 

Au revoir, my lovelies! 


	3. Must Restrain Self From Murdering Gamin ...

**A/N: Oh, I have to say a HUGE thank you to all of my lovely reviewers! Because I love you! And Javert loves you too!!! *fangirls run screaming in direction of Javert* *sigh* Yes, but I'm really too lazy to write my individual thanks to all of you, so that will just have to wait until next chapter, which will be up within a couple days (I really hope). And I will write to ALL of you then. Happy? Not singing in French?**

** I'm glad.**

The Diary of a Misunderstood Policeman

(Part 3)

**Still November 17th, dammit!**

**10:30 p.m.**

I fear for my sanity.

I am slowly losing my mind.

THAT BRAINLESS GAMIN IS STILL SINGING!!!!!!

Wondering if it would be against the rules to knock him out with my nightstick. But then again, he hasn't actually committed a crime.

Too BAD!!!!

Stay calm, Javert. In just an hour and a half, you can go home to your nice soft bed. You can wash your sideburns with some nice shampoo, and then dry your nice sideburns, and then put some sideburn-spray on your sideburns, and then go to sleep. 

AND NEVER WAKE UP AGAIN.

Yes, that DOES sound good. Mostly the sideburns part. And the part about never waking up again.

I wonder, in the case of my death, if I would go to heaven or hell?

Where do gamin children go?

Well, I'll go to the place opposite where THEY go. If I had to spend all eternity with this kid – he says his name is Gavroche (well, at least it's not Gavroche ValGavroche) – I might have to kill myself. Again.

Wait, is it POSSIBLE to kill yourself when you're in the afterlife?

Oh, GOD, I HOPE so.

**11:00 p.m.**

I'm hungry.

I can't cook.

Perhaps I could make one of the Rue de Whatsit prostitutes come in and cook for me?

But then my inner desires for her feet might overtake me. And no one wants that. I wouldn't want that gamin to go around telling people about it. That would seriously screw up my life.

**11:10 p.m.**

WHY IS EVERYTHING SO COMPLICATED???

Take a deep breath. In, out. In, out.

**11:11 p.m.**

Can't take it any longer!!!!!

**11:20 p.m.**

Hmm. Perhaps the gamin is good for SOMETHING. 

This is what happened.

I was screaming and hitting my head on various pieces of furniture that happen to be in the police station here when the kid heard me. AND HE STOPPED SINGING!!!!

JOY!

"Sir, is everything all right?"

"No!" Of course everything wasn't all right; if everything was all right, would I be bashing my skull against everything? "Damn straight everything's not all right! I'm starving to DEATH!" I slid slowly down the side of the wall and fell forward slightly. Gavroche was staring at me with his hand over his mouth. 

No need to be amazed at my talents; I always did have a flair for the dramatic.   
  


He was actually behaving politely, for once. "Sir, would you like me to make some food for you?"

That's right. The gamin, who I locked up without a word and for no reason, was offering to HELP me. 

Because it was very late, I did not notice the oddity of the situation.

I nodded mutely, got up and unlocked the door of his cell. He skipped out, whistling. That is, until I shot him my signature Javert-is-very-pissed-and-you'd-do-well-not-to-annoy-him glare. It worked.

He got over to the stove, and he is there now, cooking me eggs. I think.

Except it is very late, as I said before, and I am not thinking very clearly.

Oh well. 

**11:40 p.m.**

Food is ready. Mmm, eggs. Gamin has also poured some sort of drink for me. Can't really tell what it is, but it's very good. Ate eggs and demanded more of unspecified drink.

**11:45 p.m.**

On fourth glass of said beverage. Must find out where kid buys it.

Probably stole it. Oh well! Jolly old men like me are kind to children and do not punish them for stealing.

…Where did THAT come from???

Yelled at gamin for more drink.

Fifth glass. Must use chamber pot. Told gamin to stay where he was. He looked amused. 

**11:55 p.m.**

Back in police station.

WHERE IS GAMIN????????

Damn, he's gone!!! …I…think…

Called a carriage. Going home.

Will feel better in the morning. Will kill gamin in the morning.

Wait, no! WILL BE KIND TO LITTLE CHILD IN THE MORNING. Yes. Of COURSE. 

**12:10 a.m.**

Too tired to wash sideburns. Instead went straight to bed. 

I feel odd. 

And unsexy.

**12:15 a.m.**

Crying in the corner of my room because of un-sexiness.

Suppose I will have to regain uber-sexiness in the morning. Good night, all.  


	4. Written Rather Late At NightI Mean, In T...

**A/N: I am SO sorry that you all had to wait a MONTH for the update…geesh I feel so BAD…like Javert must feel right now…I've had a very un-fun month. But I have returned (*evil laughter*) and I'm REALLY going to try to get another chapter of this and my other story up within a week or two…going to try SO hard…love you all so much and thanks for your *very* **

**positive feedback :) I 3 you all! :-D **

The Diary of a Misunderstood Policeman

(Part 4)

**November 18**

**1:00 p.m. (?!?!?!?!?)**

Just woke up.

It is 1:00 p.m..

Merde.

My head hurts a LOT. Damn.

Why does my head hurt like this?? And why did I wake up at 1 p.m.????

The only possible reason for this is that GAVROCHE SPIKED THE UNKNOWN DRINK!!!

I KNEW I shouldn't have had five glasses of it. I KNEW it!!!

Yeah, so why DID I?

**1:10 p.m.**

Do you know how UNPROFESSIONAL it is to go to work with a hangover? ESPECIALLY if you're a policeman?

Like I AM??

Well, I do now. I was RIGHT about the gamin.

**1:15 p.m.**

If he put anything in those eggs…

Perhaps Javert ValJavert will have ANOTHER career, besides his theatrical one and his law-related one. Perhaps this career will be referred to, in the vernacular, as "Serial Killer".

No. Must resist violent urges. 

MUST RESIST!!!

**1:20 p.m.**

Have convinced self NOT to become a serial killer, only because, if I chose such a job, I would probably not have access to any feet, which would be An Immense Tragedy.

You know it. Oh, you KNOW it.

I can totally see that you know it. 

_My milkshake brings all the gamins to the yard, and they're like, it's better than yours. Damn right, it's…_ Oh, Lord, I am NOT getting into this again. 

Because, unlike any of you, I REMEMBER what happened last time I went clubbing. 

I think a few lovely ladies remember also. 

**1:34 P.M.**

Must stop shuddering. Must forget. Anger management. Counseling. Nice people who put you in circular padded rooms where your anger will hurt no one…

Oh, God, they've BRAINWASHED me.

I think I'm going to be sick.


End file.
